Hello everyone! How are you this fine day?

…

Sounds awesome! Well…. Sorry for not updating sooner. I've been… busy… But I figured y'all need an update! This past week has been pretty traumatizing, actually. I have a good excuse for not updating. Why? Well, I'm guessing a couple of you have heard of that shooting and a suicide in a school? All over the news. Well, that was my school. :/ Luckily, I wasn't a witness of the scene (unlike a lot of my friends and classmates) but I was part of the panic. It was probably the most scary thing that's ever happened to me. It was nothing like it is in movies and stuff. It was awful. I didn't even know the guy! But the stories I've heard and the change in everyone in my class… Ugh. Everyone I've talked to has had nightmares about it. Even me! I'm writing a story about it. (I know right? There's finally something in my life worth writing about!)

Anyways. Sorry for rambling. If you want to hear any more about my life, or my experience, we do have these things called PMs! :D

Well, here's the chapter!

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

Waffles and the Apartment

Mozzie rummages through the drawers of Neal's old apartment, searching for things they might need on their next big run. Usually he can clear out safe houses in minutes if he needs to, but it's different now. First of all, it isn't a safe house. It's Neal's apartment. Old apartment. Second, he can't exactly clear it out. Too suspicious. Everyone thinks Neal's dead. So this should actually take less time than clearing.

But… it's Neal's apartment. There is no "old." It will always be Neal's apartment. Mozzie knows that June will never give it to anyone else. It is and forever shall be labeled Neal's apartment. That's the way it should be.

Mozzie is usually very keen on this decision that he and his accomplices have made. But being here… it doesn't have the same feeling. There's something different about running with everyone looking for you and running with everyone thinking you're dead. "Everyone" being all of your friends you've made this time. Not just FBI. There's a certain betrayal there that even Mozzie feels.

He opens Neal's safes. Puts IDs, passports, cash, and other of Mozzie's own items in a duffle bag. As an afterthought, he brings along a couple of Neal's paints that Neal had hidden and buries them deep in the duffle, just in case anyone would happen to have a peek inside when he isn't looking. Mozzie is sure to keep all of his things at first sight. He packs classical books, a large majority of Neal's personal items that Mozzie knows he couldn't live without (which thankfully isn't much), and his computer.

Granted, all of these things definitely could have been left, but Mozzie couldn't resist coming back just one last time. To see the place, speak with June, and leave a spark.

On his way out of the building, he gives June one last hug. June cries a lot, and Mozzie can't help but let a few tears fall down his own face. It hurts him to see her like this, and he wishes for her sake (and others, perhaps even his) that they will come back. Mozzie takes one last look at June before he closes the front door and walks down the steps.

[][][]

Peter sits on his couch, staring into nothingness. Elizabeth can't even think of the time when he sat down. That's where he's been since they got home from the funeral a couple of hours ago. All he does is think. The TV has been on at some point, but was eventually turned off, as Peter found it rather annoying and an interruption to his thoughts.

Is Neal alive? Is Neal dead? Never in Peter's life have those questions felt so odd. Is Neal in trouble? Is Neal free? Does Mozzie think he is alive? Is Mozzie—

Mozzie.

He said he was going to Neal's place later. To pick up things.

Could it be a hint at something?

Peter can take a hint.

So without another thought, he stands, keys already in hand, and announces to his wife that he will be back. Then he leaves.

Peter doesn't know how long it took him to get to June's home, or even if he did it legally. Being an emotional wreck really does mess with you on small things like that. Autopilot is your friend in times like these. But he mounts those steps just as he has done every other day—every normal day—and rings the doorbell. June answers the door instead of one of her maids, a sadistic display of tears running down her cheeks.

"Oh, Peter," June says, and lets more tears flow. Peter's heart drops at the sight of her. Neal, what have you done? "Please, come in." June opens the door a bit wider to allow Peter to enter.

He does. And he stands there in the entryway awkwardly, unsure of what to do. When June shuts the door, he asks abruptly, "Is Mozzie here?"

June smiles halfheartedly. "He just left a couple of minutes ago."

No. No, it doesn't matter. Surely Mozzie didn't plan to meet up with Peter later. He already said goodbye. He was hinting at Neal's apartment. So that's where he should go.

Is he serious? Is Peter scraping hard dirt trying to find answers that most likely don't exist? Probably. But he always goes with his gut. He can't think of a time when it's been wrong. So he thanks June and dismisses himself upstairs.

Being in Neal's apartment again, is different. The air is still. There's no criminal mind in here keeping things busy anymore. Things are gone. Even a layer of dust has settled on the table and the bookshelves. Peter sighs and moves around, looking for something, but he doesn't know what. He moves almost mechanically, like the only thing keeping him moving is the small ember of hope planted in his mind that Neal is alive. Moving books around, he finds some missing that Moz must have taken. The ones he recognizes are gone are just classical, Mozzie-typed books, and none of them are hiding much (really, you'd be surprised at how much Neal and Mozzie hide in books). It surprises Peter how much he remembers about the place. How one thing removed cannot go unnoticed.

Slowly but surely, he makes his way from one side of the room to the other. There are boxes under Neal's bed and on top of the bookshelves and secret compartments that Peter knows about, and even joked to Neal about a couple of times. ("Nope, you won't be sneaking into any of those while I'm alive," is what Neal said once. Peter swallows) But he can't bring himself to look in any of them. Though he was suspicious of them before, it seems like way too much an invasion of privacy. And with Neal being such a touchy subject to everyone right now, he just doesn't really want to.

There are other things, though, that Peter finds. Things that Neal has kept throughout the years. He's surprised at how much of it is FBI case "souvenirs." Such as the College of Criminology Syllabus (one of Neal's favorites, no doubt), Peter and Neal's "five minutes of oxygen" breather (when did he get that?), the Bored Art showing program, The Architect business card… so much of it. Peter had no idea how much Neal actually enjoyed being an FBI consultant until now. He did enjoy it, didn't he? If he didn't, why would he keep all of this stuff?

Soon Peter makes his way to the fireplace. Now motivated with a newfound energy, he is back to being Agent Burke, untouchable and indestructible. He moves with a glint in his eye, and a fraction of a grin on his face as he carefully searches for clues, like he's used to doing. And by the time he gets around the room and back to the door, he groans when he sees it. There, in plain sight, written in the dust on a small table, is the message, plain as day:

COME

FIND

US.

[][][]

Mozzie has been back for about a day now. The three of us are eating toaster waffles around a small table in silence. It doesn't seem to bother Moz or Harleigh, but silence in a not-so-good situation will be the death of me someday. I can't stand it. I have to be doing something.

"So, Moz," I start, clearing my throat. "Got any progress on where to go?"

"More than you think," he replies. "I was thinking… Florida, perhaps? Or maybe the Bahamas might be a better espy…"

I smirk. "You haven't done anything, have you?"

Mozzie is procrastinating. He doesn't want to go, either! Well, glad I'm not alone.

When Mozzie doesn't reply, I put my fork down and wipe my mouth. "I'm done," I say. "I can't do this."

Harleigh looks at me, confusion evident on her face. She looks from me, to my waffle, and back to me. Does she think I'm talking about breakfast?

"What?" she finally asks.

"I'm going back to New York," I declare.

Stunned silence. Harleigh just stares, disbelieving, and Mozzie smiles for a second before that quickly vanishes. A part of my audacity crumples (thankfully not visibly), as I take note that Mozzie has done something. Something to make me not want to go back. That must be what he's been working on besides our second round of island plans. Whether this is good or bad, I don't know.

"What—why?" Harleigh asks, completely incredulous. "You were in chains, Neal! Now you want to skip out on freedom just because you start getting cozy with your captors?!"

"My 'captors' have gotten me out from behind bars more times than I can count," I reply sharply. "And they're also my friends."

"Yeah and they've also dragged you back to your little fence more times than you can count, too," Harleigh counters, then heaves a sigh before I can reply. "Look, I get that they've done some good for you. And what can you do in return but like them? But people like us, we have to keep moving. We can't look back. I figured you should know that by now."

"I do know that. But there, I don't have to run. I have a life."

"You had a life. Everyone thinks you're dead, Neal! Everyone! Not just your little friends! You don't have to run anymore!"

"Living a lie for safety is pretty much the same thing," I say.

"Oh, you sure about that, Neal Bennett?" Harleigh raises a brow.

How much does she actually know about me?

I sigh. Time for some honesty… "I don't care. I'll never be the same unless they know I'm alive. They're not just friends, Harleigh."

She sits back in disbelieving silence, watching me the whole time. I can feel the thought radiating off of her: Who is Neal Caffrey? After a few moments, she finally resents. "Okay, Neal. I get it. Obviously Peter's your Kaidan. I'll respect that."

Just like her music is my artwork.

I sigh in relief, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. "Okay. Thanks."

She laughs, at a loss for words, shaking her head.

I glance at Mozzie. He seems happy, for the most part, but hesitant. I'll just talk to him later.

"I really thought we'd go somewhere, Caffrey," Harleigh says finally, "but I guess we just aren't meant to be." She smirks, probably thinking of our history. "Maybe some other time."

She stands, and we all begin to clean up our mess here. I work unconsciously, repeating to myself how that couldn't have gone better. Tonight, I'll be able to see everybody. It'll be tough, tears and shock guaranteed, and who knows? Tomorrow, I might even get my anklet back. Joy.

I sigh and smile, shoving my hands in my pockets. I'm going home.

Yaaay! Happy day! But what has Mozzie done? Now we've got Peter working on getting him home too! How will this turn out?

As you've probably suspected, the end is coming soon…. Yeah, that's right, be sad. I am! Anyway, review please! :D I love reviews! Oh and thanks to everyone who has already! I love you guys! You make my day!